The Day I No Longer Say Master
by juumensou
Summary: "Sister says that I shouldn't get myself in such a twist over Master. That it can't happen. But as her younger sister, I'll do my best to twist myself into shapes she could never imagine." A new maid finds herself captivated by her master, and struggles to cope with traumas from her past and the many changes she now has to face. CielxOC Partner story to "The Day We Say I Love You."
1. November 15th, 1889

**A/N:** And I'm back again in the same day, this time with a "new" story. It's a story, of course, but it's connected to "The Day We Say I Love You" in case you didn't understand what I meant by "partner story." This is Amalia's little sister's diary. I know I could have put both diaries in the same story, but… I just felt like doing it this way. I actually wasn't planning on creating her little sister's diary at all, but a different perspective is nice, don't you think?

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but my OCs! Oh god don't sue me

**The Day I No Longer Say "Master"**

**November 15****th****, 1889**

My hands are shaking as I write this; Earl Ciel Phantomhive has accepted my application. I suppose I should address him as "Master" now, shouldn't I? I'm so excited, and so nervous at the same time. Clothilda (or "Mother" as Amalia likes to call her) told me to pack right away, but I had already packed. I got a little ahead of myself… I didn't mean to, but it was just in case. Now I have nothing to do and I'm unable to sleep, so I sit here, writing in the new diary Clothilda was kind enough to give me.

I haven't seen my sister in ages… I'm so excited to finally see her again, though I will shamefully admit that I have been impatiently awaiting the day I finally left home, too. Amalia is so lucky, is what I would like to say, but she has been working as a maid for nearly three years now and is getting closer and closer to becoming a spinster. I suppose I'm not better. I'm nearly fourteen and still unmarried, but then again, I rarely leave the house. Besides, wouldn't it be embarrassing too Amalia if I were to marry first? Not that I could or would, of course…

I am honestly not that interested in marriage or starting a family. Children… do not interest me. I have no interest in pregnancy or raising sniveling little demons. Children have always annoyed me, and I know I would most likely not make a good mother. However, independence can be rather hard for a woman… Clothilda struggles even if she's a published author. I'll most likely marry some older farmer and die early after having children. That's not the type of life I want… But that's the only thing I know about what I truly desire.

Clothilda has always said that I could just stay with her… forever. I don't like the thought of it, but if I don't start taking care of myself soon, I might have to take her up on that offer. I'm also rather suspicious of her intentions with such a generous "gift." She may be my mother, but that doesn't mean we're close. I suspect she may offer me such a thing because she is lonely. She isn't legally divorced; Bamber just left us behind. Besides, she might want to mend the rift between us. As mother and daughter, we're supposed to be close, but I can hardly see her as my mother or Bamber as my father. There have been many times that I've struggled to accept Amalia as my elder sister.

I didn't always feel this way. As a very young child, I would refer to Clothilda as "Mutter" and affectionately address Bamber as "Vati." However, as time went on and I began to distance myself and isolate myself, "Mutter" became Clothilda and "Vati" became the cold Father, eventually turning into Bamber when he left. Amalia still refers to him as our father, even though I do not consider him to be related to me in any way. I loathe the fact that his blood runs through my veins.

Perhaps I should be more respectful of at least my own mother, the woman who has raised me and nurtured me for nearly fourteen years. She isn't a bad woman, but there's something about her. Even as a child, I never liked her. It's difficult to say that I love her, but I respond with a mumbled and choked "I love you too, Clothilda" every night when I go upstairs to my room to hide away and wait for sleep to embrace me. She used to be hurt that I called her by name, but I think that she's used to it by now, as her face no longer falls and her eyes no longer harden when she hears her name sound from my chapped lips.

I know that I can never be as close to her as Amalia is. I think that I'm okay with that. I don't know if I would want to be close to a woman like her. It may be rude to think of my mother in such a manner, but I cannot lie to myself, and I know that she wouldn't read my diary. I would find out, and she doesn't like to do anything to upset me. Not that I'll throw a tantrum, but I'll instinctively scowl and sneer at her and quietly slink back to my room, silent for the rest of the day.

I think she fears this reaction so much because it's… _unusual_ in her eyes. Bamber and Amalia always reacted with a fiery and harsh temper; heat would radiate from their faces and the horrid stench from their breath would fill the area around them as they screamed until their voice disappeared. I threw temper tantrums as a very young child, but I think I prefer her terrified expression to a scolding and a beating. I also hate yelling. If I hate yelling and were to scream my head off at Clothilda because she kept insisting that I leave the house, I would be a hypocrite. As much as I… _love_ my sister, I was rather… well, euphoric, I suppose, when she was finally out of the house. I know I have to move back in with her, but I don't think she's quite as loudmouthed and hasty as she was before.

My light is getting dim and I can hear a drunkard outside. I think it's best if I put down my pen and make sure everything is locked up. We don't need any thieves, now do we? Besides, I think my legs have calmed down now.

_– Bathildis Durst._


	2. November 16th, 1889

**A/N:** I really need to get some friends. Writing is what I do every single day, for hours and hours. But I'm so happy about these stories; I've got nearly the entire plot planned out with the ending and everything. Also, plot twist; she was phone. I've been on the internet too much…

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own anything or anyone but my OCs.

**November 16****th****, 1889**

Today was… terrible. To say the least. I met Master today, and I found myself shaking like there was an earthquake. It wasn't my new master that scared me; rather, it was his head butler, a man named Sebastian. I couldn't say a single word without my voice wavering or my lips trembling. Amalia had to take care of me when I—I don't want to even write it. I don't want to think about it. It was so embarrassing… Master Ciel probably thinks I'm an idiot, or that he's brought someone with a strange kind of disease to his manor. I'm probably going to get Amalia and myself fired…

I hadn't meant to be so nervous. But as a child, I often fainted in the presence of men other than Bamber, if I didn't retch beforehand. I suppose it's been a while since I've been in even the same room as a man; the thought of being near Sebastian is making me feel sick again. I feel so bad about what happened…

At first, I had just quaked at the sight of the butler. Then, when he invited me inside and we were alone in the corridors, I felt my stomach… _scream_. I tried to hold it down, but I wound up getting sick in Master's office… Well, I didn't vomit on any of his belongings, as I managed to sprint in to the hallway first. It wasn't too much, thankfully… I suppose this is what I get for eating a big breakfast.

This isn't the end of it though, diary. Sebastian attempted to calm me down when I started to cry, despite my best attempts to hold it in, and then I began to apologize in a mixture of English and German. It was something that often happened to me when I was a young girl; I would get shaky and my words would slur as my languages mixed. I hated it… I sounded like such a fool. But sounding like a fool wasn't the worst of my problems; he touched my shoulder, and when I looked up… I saw Bamber. The shock made my heart falter, and I hit the ground. I woke up to my worried and flushed sister. Master sent me to bed, saying something about me "being sick from my trip."

He's going to kick me out. I'm going to be out of a job. Everyone is going to laugh about this for years… This is why I hate leaving the house. Everyone always laughs at me. I'm so clumsy and awkward; I tripped on my own dress this morning. I don't want to leave the manor. I don't want to go back outside. I don't want to go back to Clothilda and that tiny little neighborhood, where the drunken folk wander and curse at night and children are smacked for stealing crumb of bread. That place is… out of control. I despise it. I will surely be in Hell if I ever have to see it again.

I don't care if it was where I was raised. My birthplace is not London. It's not even England. I'm German, and that's where the rest of my family is. I have only met them once. Clothilda used to send them all letters, but as I grew older, Bamber became more and more controlling, so she was forced to stop. I want to meet my family, I think. I honestly don't know. If they're anything like that horrible wench Clothilda, then I'd rather just pretend that I never knew about them.

Horrible wench. My exact thoughts. Is it so terrible for me to dislike my own mother? Isn't there a doctor going around proclaiming that children despise the parent of the same gender because they're vying for the other's sexual attention? Or something like that… How… disturbing. I know I would never think of Bamber that way. In fact, he isn't even with us. I haven't seen him since I was eleven or so.

I sigh at the thought of him. It's making me feel ill again. I look to the door, but I know it would be a bad idea to try to find Amalia. Besides, what comfort would she offer? She doesn't understand. She is my complete opposite. We don't even look like sisters… We don't even have quite the same accent; mine is, as much as I hate it at times, heavier and makes me a bit harder to understand. I suppose Clothilda began to teach her English at an earlier age, and she was around more people who didn't have such thick accents. She went out more, and it shows; she's a pretty, golden tan, and I am a sickly white, blending in with the walls of my new chamber.

Ah, yes, my chamber. I don't mind my room. It's as plain as the old one, but at least now I don't have to worry about anyone sneaking in. I was always concerned about that, even if I knew no one would… The other servants don't seem very suspicious. But then again, there's Amalia. She looks so much like Clothilda. She has the same sunny blonde hair as her, and the same muddy green eyes. While I, I look like Bamber, right down to his eyes. I know that Clothilda and Amalia hate my eyes. I don't care much of my mother's opinion of them, but Amalia… My sister… I can't cut myself from everyone. Besides, she isn't too bad… So if growing my bangs out will keep her quiet, then I'll keep hiding them.

I don't much care for Bamber's stabbing gaze staring back at me in the mirror every morning, anyway.

I can hear footsteps, and I listen closer. Not bare feet, not high heels… I couldn't help myself. I just peeked outside of my room, and I caught sight of Sebastian's long shadow. I swear I saw two glowing fuschia orbs glance back at me, but it's probably just the dark getting to me. Maybe he's going to bed and was just finishing up work. I suppose I should do the same.

_– Bathildis Durst._


End file.
